Tree Rings

Tree Rings

Before I paint red the end stubs of
two-by-fours, I touch the tree rings;
is this the year the last grizzly
reigned in Colorado?

Life in the forest with everyone
absent. Tree rings mirror cosmic circles.
Secrets ring our lives. The soul dies
with secrets. Foolish to think

we know everything about ourselves.
Or that someone else can or does.
Tell me when my tree rings
will die. I will call you a fool.

I cover the end stubs with red paint.
Now, these secrets bleed forever.


About Ciletti

Jim Ciletti, an award winning poet, filmmaker, and author, is the 2010-2012, Poet Laureate of the Pikes Peak region, and for 41 years, poet-in-residence for the Orme School Fine Arts Festival. Jim gives many workshops on the writing and performance of poetry, and makes poetry house calls to create personal poetry events. Ciletti loves everything Italian, including cooking for family and friends, and loves to plant garlic, make homemade wine, and eating peaches and plums. "Everyday is Christmas, but you don't always get everything you ask for. Sometimes more. Poetry celebrates life."
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3 Responses to Tree Rings

  1. C.C. says:

    Thank you – enjoyed this.

  2. I find myself reading this over and over, as if going in the circle of the tree ring–and each time it recalls something else in me–that is great writing.

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